


Shaken to Your Soul

by Starshearted (cthulhucorp)



Series: Soul Eater Ficlets + Drabbles [10]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Abstract, Flashbacks, Gen, Reminiscing, i guess, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:18:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulhucorp/pseuds/Starshearted
Summary: Death thinks of the kishin.He thinks of Asura.He thinks of his son.





	Shaken to Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> look i don't know what this is, it's crappily written and super confusing. But it's based off the song "After All" from Ever After. If you listen to the song while reading, it makes a little bit more sense.

Death thinks of the kishin. Locked away within the caverns below DWMA, below the surface. Death thinks of the crimes commited against humanity by the beast, the three eyes monstrosity that he helped to create. He thinks not of a time before the creature came to be known as anything more than just “the kishin”, a blight on humanity. He thinks of the feeling of his scythe in his hands, the magic surrounding them as they fought, as Death brought chaos and madness to its knees and tore its skin away.

He thinks of the Kishin as he watches the fire begin to consume the logs in the fireplace of Gallows manor. The light that reflects off shiny surfaces and onto his face, the warmth of a small piece of destruction happening before him. Destruction is the kishins forte.

* * *

 

Death thinks of Asura. A grand warrior he held in such high regard at one point. Death himself had trained the meister, taught him how to fight, how to hold his own in a battle, how to conqeur his fears. But did any of that work? Did anything stick? Had Death truly taught him anything other than to meet his high expectations.

Thoughts of Asura rise like the flames consuming the logs in the fireplace, the increasing heat that bugs Death to back up- But he fails to do so. He sits close to the flame, feels the heat lick at his face, stretch towards the heavens.

* * *

 

Death thinks of his son. The son he didn't want. The son he hated.

The son he missed.

His son had never been strong. It was Death's own wrongdoing, his mistakes in the creation, the process, of creating his heir, his child. That itself was the issue. Death had thought only of an heir, not a child. But had he truly? No. Perhaps that was merely what the god of Death wanted to tell himself. His son was meant to be an heir. His son was not meant to be nothing but the chaotic fear of thousands of years that had formed inside Death's soul. His son was not supposed to die before truly being alive, his son was not meant to never fully form.

Thoughts of his son fall like the ashes from the logs as the fire burns itself out.

* * *

 

Death rises, running a pale and cold hand through the curls atop his head. Exhaustion that fills his bones, an exhaustion unlike something physical. A mental ache.

A very real thud.

The god of Death turns to find himself looking at his son-

His real son. A son of golden eyes and cowlicked hair, not scarlet red and silk. Death swoops in, grabs his child from the ground, and holds him still in his arms. A very real exhaustion.

Death carries his son, his real son, back to bed. He does not think of the kishin. He does not think of Asura. He does not think of his first son.

The fire has gone out.

 


End file.
